


Making it weird

by numinousnumbat



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Crack, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Humor, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/numinousnumbat/pseuds/numinousnumbat
Summary: Geralt keeps having sex with Jaskier in strange places.5 times Geralt and Jaskier had sex publicly + 1 time they finally had some privacy.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 326





	Making it weird

**Author's Note:**

> Slight dubcon warning, perhaps: there’s sex pollen and sleeping kisses and the like. The characters don’t have any problems with what’s happening, but if this is something you don’t enjoy, please keep yourself safe and skip.

**1: orgy with the vampire**

The monster was a vampire; the bite marks in the necks of the deceased were the obvious clue. But the townspeople clammed up when Geralt tried to narrow down the hunting ground. One or two families refusing to answer was normal, but no one from the many victims’ families would talk. Without any help, Geralt would need a multi-night stakeout to methodically work his way through the most likely spots. He had spent the afternoon drawing a rough map of the area, and would start his surveillance at dusk. For now, it was time to get ready for a long night.

“Guess who was invited by the mayor’s wife herself to an orgy!” Jaskier singsonged as he closed the door behind him. “What _does_ one wear to an orgy?” He squatted next to the clothing he'd left in a pile next to the bed.

Of course. The vampire was finding its victims at the orgy. An easy hunting ground, and it explained why no one would discuss where the deceased were when they died.

“I’m coming with you,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier stopped midway through going through the pile, red trousers covered in what smelled like kikimora intestines in hand. “Last week you wouldn’t even go on a double-date with me and those twins and now you want to go to an orgy with me?”

“The vampire,” he growled. 

Jaskier brightened. “Oh, that’s clever!” He frowned and his forehead creased. “Might do two different versions of the song, the true tale and one for when there are children present.”

After sunset, Geralt and Jaskier walked to the manor house. Jaskier knocked on the door, handed over his token, and they were led upstairs to a small room where they were given towels to change into. The room had a bench, some hooks, and a few bottles of oil. 

Geralt stripped and tied the towel around his waist. He emptied one bottle of oil into another and then filled the newly empty one with holy water. When he started sharpening his dagger, Jaskier sighed dramatically and sat in front of the vanity to rearrange his hair, using the leftover holy water to tame the sticking up bits. 

Geralt strapped the newly sharpened silver dagger to the inside of his thigh. 

“I like your _weapon_ ,” Jaskier said. 

Geralt shook his head.

They went down the hall and entered the main ... orgy room, a large room with an excessive number of beds and sofas, all covered with naked people. Geralt pitied whoever had to rid the upholstery of stains. The room was not great for a stakeout as the incense made it hard for him to smell anything and there were too many people for him to listen for individual heartbeats.

“Stay close,” he said into Jaskier’s ear, and lead them to a sofa in the corner where he had good sight lines to the door and windows. 

Jaskier gently pushed Geralt onto the sofa, tossed his towel onto the floor, and sat himself down on Geralt’s thigh, the one with the dagger, both of them facing the room. Jaskier leaned back to whisper, “I’m your cover" into Geralt's ear.

Geralt opened the bottle of holy water and checked to make sure he could get to the dagger without cutting himself or Jaskier. 

Jaskier started grinding his arse onto Geralt’s thigh in a distracting manner. “You're at an orgy,” Jaskier said, "so, you need to blend in better," and he took Geralt’s hand and put it on his cock. “Too weird?” he asked. 

“Good cover,” Geralt allowed. He stroked Jaskier’s cock firmly and Jaskier writhed on his leg. OK, he needed to focus.

“Yes, like that,” Jaskier murmured, his heartbeat picking up.

Geralt wanted to be finished with this stakeout. Unless the vampire walked over and said _hello_ , he wasn't going to find it like this.

A woman sashayed to them from a bed in the centre of the room. “Hello, Bard,” she said, her voice low and sultry. “Thank you for coming.” 

“Oh, I’ll be thanking both you and Geralt for coming in a moment,” Jaskier said breathlessly as his hips moved in tandem with Geralt’s hand. “Geralt, this is Lena, the mayor’s wife and the host of tonight’s, erm, entertainment. Lena, this is my travel partner, Geralt.” 

“So nice to make your acquaintance, Geralt. Would you mind terribly if I borrowed your _travel_ partner for a moment? I saw him today and made plans.” 

Yes, Geralt did mind. 

Lena reached out to run her fingers through Jaskier’s hair and immediately pulled her hand back, smoke steaming from her fingers. Geralt grabbed the dagger and sliced Lena through the neck. Black blood poured out of the wound, and she fell to the ground dead.

Er, deader. 

The entire killing had taken only seconds, and by the time Geralt realised his hand was still on Jaskier’s cock, Jaskier was making a strange sound from the back of his throat and coming on Geralt’s hand. 

Jaskier’s head lolled back onto Geralt’s shoulder. “If we never talk about this, it won’t be weird,” Jaskier said. 

Geralt was OK with that, and he wiped his hand on his towel.

Some orgy participants realised something had happened, and the screaming started. 

Geralt picked up Jaskier off his lap and set him down on the sofa. "Go be a hero," Jaskier said, waving a lazy hand. "And then I'll finish what I started." He motioned at Geralt's cock which was poking out from the towel. Geralt tried to readjust the towel, to no avail. He could imagine the stories that would be told about this particular slaying. With a grimace, Geralt started on the worst part of his job, the dealing with humans part.

**2: sex flowers**

Geralt had been hired as security to get a few cartloads of spices and other sundries over the mountains. Monsters were rare in the mountains at this time of year, and Geralt was happy for the easy money.

Jaskier had come along as well, of course.

The party had found a good campsite an hour before sunset and the caravan leader called for an early stop. Geralt left them to scout the perimeter and when he arrived back, the tents were up and the fire was blazing.

Geralt sat on the ground next to Jaskier, glad for a spot to stretch his legs out. From across the fire, he idly watched a cart driver hand some bright purple flowers to one of the archers. She barely acknowledged the man and tossed the flowers onto the fire, where they began to smoke. The man nodded sadly and left the circle. 

The flower smoke caught on the breeze it drifted towards Jaskier. He was in the middle of talking, and tried to waft it away with a few flings of his hand as he emphasised a point, but the majority of the smoke went in his face, and he coughed. 

More smoke drifted their way, and both Geralt and Jaskier breathed in more of it. The smoke smelled strange, but familiar. 

Jaskier looked at where Geralt was sitting next to him and started unbuttoning his doublet. “Is it hot?” he asked. 

Ah, that would be Flowering Talloom, the strongest sex agent in the wild. It took three decades to flower and then it was potent for a few hours at most. And apparently could spread via smoke. Geralt would need to update that particular entry in the _Historia Plantarum._

Luckily, as a witcher, he was immune to its effects. “Douse the fire,” Geralt shouted, feeling the urge to unbuckle his trousers. “The smoke is poison.”

“Has anyone ever written a ballad to your nose before?” Jaskier asked, tossing his doublet on the ground and taking his shirt off. 

Someone thankfully threw the pail of water on the fire so Geralt could concentrate on helping Jaskier. 

“Not to be too forward, but I would very much like it if you could fuck me.” Jaskier hadn't taken his boots off, so his trousers were stuck around his knees. 

“It’s just sex pollen,” Geralt said. “The effects will wear off in a couple of hours.” 

“I will die in _minutes_ if someone doesn’t fuck me.”

Geralt seemed to remember from the _Historia Plantarum_ that if the affected person could orgasm, that usually was enough to clear their system of the poison. 

“I’m going to suck your cock,” Geralt said. “It should help.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we should do that,” Jaskier said, and Geralt moved to his knees. Geralt yanked off one of Jaskier’s boots and wrangled his trousers half off and then dived, skipping any sort of foreplay to get his mouth on Jaskier.

“It hurts,” Jaskier said pushing his hips towards Geralt’s mouth.

“You’ll feel better when you come,” Geralt said as he surfaced for air.

“I always do,” Jaskier said mournfully, throwing his arm over his face.

Geralt went back to devouring Jaskier’s cock. It had been awhile since Geralt had done this particular act, but he didn’t remember how nice it felt, how intense. He shoved a hand down his trousers and started wanking to get some relief.

"Geralt, like that, keep going, I'm so close," Jaskier moaned.

Geralt had no intention of stopping, not when Jaskier needed him. As Jaskier came in his mouth, Geralt came in his pants. 

Jaskier was lying against the log and panting, cock limp and wet. “I feel better, but we should probably go another round to make sure the sex pollen is completely out of my system before you take watch.” 

“That would be … prudent,” Geralt said. He was going to suggest their tent but Jaskier chose that moment to stick his hand down Geralt's pants and Geralt figured they'd might as well stay put.

  
**3: prove they’re gay**

“I will not travel anywhere with a man!” the woman - Aleksandra, apparently - snarled at Geralt. “I do not accept the confines of patriarchy! Better to die with my sisters than live obedient to a man!” 

“Then you’ll die,” Geralt replied. “There are many monsters between here and Aermagh.” The contract was to get one Aleksandra, Baroness de Aermagh, back to her family so her great-uncle’s last will and testament could be read. Aleksandra had left her home over a year ago to live within the walls of this women-only commune. Geralt was trying to convince her to come with him, even as more members of the commune were coming to the entrance gate to see about the commotion. 

“I think,” Jaskier said, joining the conversation, “that Lady Aleksandra needs to be assured that this gentleman witcher here does not want to take what is not on offer. Lady Aleksandra,” he said with a small bow, “May I, Jaskier, Bard of Some Renown, assure you that Geralt of Rivia, Witcher of Much Renown, is not interested in your maidenhood, for he is only interested in the less fair of the sexes, if you know what I mean.”

“What?” Aleksandra stared blankly at Jaskier.

Jaskier was sometimes - always - more trouble than he was worth. Geralt glared at Jaskier before turning to Aleksandra. “I am not interested in having sex with you. Can we go now?”

Aleksandra looked undecided, and turned to her companions. 

“A demonstration!” exclaimed the brunette woman. 

“Right!” the ginger woman agreed. “Anyone can _say_ they are a homosexual, but it would be much harder to fake the actual act.” She nodded and crossed her arms. 

Geralt looked to the sun to gauge the time, then at the small travelling party the woman’s family had put together for her safe return. Not many great options. He looked to Jaskier, who was already unbuttoning his trousers. “You don’t have to do this,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier threw his doublet onto a branch. “I don’t _have_ to, but I _want_ to.”

There was a patch of grass that didn’t look too rocky. Geralt unbuckled his armour and slid the bottom half off. He laid down on the grass and motioned to Jaskier. 

"If my ex-husband, Lord Shite-For-Brains, had a prick like that we’d still be married,” the ginger woman said.

Geralt sighed.

“I am going to ride you so hard,” Jaskier said. 

“Do not -”

“Do not mention Roach when we’re fucking, I know, I know.” Jaskier quickly shed the rest of his clothes.

“Are they really going to have sexual relations on the ground, Mańka?” the blonde woman asked.

“This is what you insisted on!” Jaskier called out as he straddled Geralt.

Jaskier had oil from somewhere and started working a couple of fingers into himself. Geralt reached out his hand and starting stroking Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier pulled his fingers free, and lined up Geralt’s cock and started working his way down. "Geralt, _fuck_ , you feel so good."

Probably not as good as Jaskier felt to him. Geralt took a deep breath to steady himself. “Next time, you should tell them that witchers are celibate. It would be faster.”

“But not more _fun_ and I assure you that I'll be finished soon.” Jaskier paused to moan softly before continuing. “I don’t know how much I can move, can you come like this? Or I can try -”

Geralt had been trying not to come since Jaskier had first put his hands on Geralt's cock. “I can finish like this.” He reached his hand forward to help Jaskier finish first, but Jaskier batted his hand away. 

"Like this," Jaskier said and nodded, and Geralt met Jaskier's thrusts with his own, and they built up a good rhythm. Jaskier came on Geralt's chest and Geralt came inside Jaskier moments later.

There was some clapping from the women.

"I suppose I can go pack my things," Aleksandra said.

"Take your time, my Lady," Jaskier called out from where he was slumped on top of Geralt.

  
**4: altar offering**

“I think that’s a double F, which would make the ending on the third word plural future perfect.” Jaskier shrugged and backed away. 

“Saying _I don’t have a fucking clue_ is more succinct,” Geralt said. 

“I think we get the gist,” Jaskier said. “That’s an altar and you have to do something to get the gate to open.” 

They were three days up a mountain and the path was blocked by an ancient iron gate, the fabled Gate of Glwyd. Geralt had heard of it and had assumed it was a legend. He was wrong. Unfortunately.

A stone altar had been built into the side of the mountain with instructions, although most of the words had faded away in time. From what they could make out, if they could somehow appease the Elder gods, the gate would open, and they’d continue on their way. If not, it was three days down the mountain, a week at least to get to the next pass, a week to cross, and then another week to get back to where this path would let them out. They’d be losing a lot of time to turn around now, but that might be their only choice if they couldn't get the gate open.

“That word means untouched!” someone exclaimed. “Or maybe strawberry?” 

Geralt looked at Jaskier. “Shall we try?” 

“Darling, if you’re asking if I’m a virgin, you would know that I am not, and I daresay you haven’t been in far longer.” 

Geralt tilted his head. “I do have one place that is, erm, untouched.” 

“Ear? Nose?” 

Geralt stared at Jaskier, hoping against hope that Jaskier would figure it out without Geralt having to explicitedly say it. 

Jaskier finally caught on, and his jaw dropped. “Yes, Geralt, yes, I would be happy - no! - _honoured_ to fuck you.”

Jaskier taught the rest of the party a simple song in Elder, and they joined hands and sang in a round as Jaskier and Geralt peeled clothes off each other, everyone agreed that virgin offerings ought to be done completely nude. Geralt got on his hands and knees on the altar and Jaskier knelt behind him.

"The real monster was hiding in the monster hunter's trousers all along," someone commented unhelpfully.

Geralt sighed.

“The ceremonial oil,” Jaskier announced, and the cooking oil was handed over. Jaskier pressed a finger against Geralt down _there_ and, _fuck_ , Geralt hadn’t known how good this would feel. 

“You can’t hurt me,” Geralt said looking down at his hands. 

“Probably not, but on my honour, I am invested in making sure you feel fucking spectacular."

Jaskier soon was pressing the tip of his cock against Geralt, and Geralt spread his legs farther to let Jaskier in, and Jaskier felt good, the press of the head of his cock against his hole, the slow entering, pushing in and in. It was intense, it was good, it was, yes, fucking spectacular.

“You need some help?” Jaskier asked. 

“Just keep fucking me and I’ll come like this,” Geralt said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Faster.” 

And Jaskier did. Geralt held on to the edge of the altar so Jaskier could fuck him harder and harder and, _gods, yes,_ he was orgasming, and he might have been moaning Jaskier's name. As Geralt’s come hit the altar, there was a low grating noise and the ancient gate starting swinging open.

“Go!” someone shouted, and luckily everyone remembered the plan and grabbed bags and horse reins. Geralt grabbed the pile of his and Jaskier’s clothes with one hand and grabbed Jaskier with the other, and they ran through the gate with barely enough time for it to clang shut behind them moments later. 

Geralt hurried to put on his clothes and armour, and when he looked up, Jaskier was standing with his clothes in his hands, as naked as the day he was born, cock at full mast. 

“I always knew your arse was magical,” Jaskier said. “Or maybe it was my magical cock.” He threw a hand to the sky. "Was the magic made between your arse and my cock?"

“Don’t sing about any of this and put your clothes on,” Geralt said. “We have miles to go.” 

“I’m waiting for this to go down,” Jaskier said waving in the general direction of his crotch. He was also humming and Geralt really hoped his arse wasn’t going to be the focus of a ballad.

Geralt stepped into Jaskier’s space. “I can help.” 

“Yeah,” Jaskier said, and he laid his head on Geralt’s shoulder to watch as Geralt gave him a handjob and in moments, Jaskier came over Geralt’s hand.

“I’m going to write the best song that’s ever been written about a virgin offering,” Jaskier said dreamily. “ _Best_ song.” 

“Please don’t,” Geralt said.

  
**5: sleeping beauty**

Geralt had just crossed the border into Brugge when his medallion started vibrating. He grabbed his silver sword, and was relieved, slightly, to see Yennefer emerge from a portal. 

She didn’t waste any time. “Your bard has been in an enchanted sleep for nine days.”

“Jaskier?”

“Do you have another bard?”

Geralt ignored her. “I only left him nine days ago. And what took you so long?” 

“I have the most prolific bards in the Continent waiting to see how the Great Yennefer of Vengerberg will save their musical hero. If they’re going to make a song of out of this, it’s going to sound way more impressive that I retrieved you from Brugge and not a day’s ride down the road.” 

“Ah, you’re getting paid by the hour?” 

Yennefer's smile didn't reach her eyes. “Of course, and I’m charging extra for the out-of-country portal.”

Yennefer motioned Geralt through the portal, and he emerged in a medium-sized hall. There were a dozen or so people milling about. A few had harps, one had a flute. Bards. Ugh. 

Jaskier was lying on a table, ghostly pale. Geralt quickly stepped forward and placed a hand on Jaskier’s chest to reassure himself that, yes, he was still breathing. 

“Is that _the_ Geralt of Rivia?” someone asked. 

“I thought Jaskier was taking artistic licence when he said he knew the witcher!” said another. 

“Can you do something about the bard infestation?” Geralt asked Yennefer, who had come to stand next to him. 

“No,” Yennefer said. “They’ve been most useful.” 

"Hm," Geralt grunted. “What can you tell me?”

A bard in green stepped forward. “Before the highly anticipated competition had even begun, Jaskier pricked his most nimble fingers on a spinning wheel and fell into this long-cursed slumber. We with utmost haste begged for a mage, and we were truly blessed when the great Yennefer of Vengerberg was called on, for her powers as a mage are only outshone by her power of mercy.” 

Geralt looked at the bard. “I know you didn’t get that from one of Jaskier’s songs.” He looked at Yennefer. “Fairy magic?” 

She shrugged. “Appears so.” 

“You don’t need me, you need an idiot who’s willing to negotiate with the fairies.” He looked down at Jaskier’s sleeping face, knowing that he was, indeed, that idiot.

“There’s a loophole,” Yennefer said, looking smug, and Geralt knew he didn't want to hear whatever was coming next. “True love’s kiss will wake him.”

Geralt squeezed his eyes shut. “Then why did you ask me here?”

Yennefer laughed. “So you want me to let other people kiss him?” she asked. “You!” she pointed at a bard in red stripes. “Would you like to be the first person to kiss Jaskier and see if he wakes?”

“Wait!” Geralt called out loudly. “I’ll do it.” 

“I thought you might,” Yennefer said. 

“Mr Rivia,” a bard in yellow stepped forward and bowed with flourish. “I am honoured to make your acquaintance. We have been having a teensy weensy squabble over _Let Me Put My Key In Your Lock_ , and were wondering if you could clear something up: Is it an alternate retelling of _The Witcher's Peaches_?” 

“Oh my gods!” exclaimed a bard in orange. “That only makes sense if you presuppose the same narrator between _Let Me Put My Key In Your Lock_ and _That's What She Said._ " 

Geralt had no idea what anyone was talking about. “Yes, in those songs, the narrator is, erm, a horse.” He climbed onto the table over Jaskier. 

“The horse!” said someone.

“Jaskier, that genius, has done it again,” said another. 

Geralt looked down at Jaskier’s sleeping face.

“Sir Witcher, would you say you are more apprehensive or excited at this moment?” someone shouted and was shushed by the others. 

Geralt gently placed his lips on Jaskier’s and then pulled back and Jaskier’s blue eyes fluttered open. 

“Geralt?” he whispered. 

“What did he say?” someone asked loudly.

“Hello,” Geralt said. “Glad you’re awake. Have fun at the competition.” 

Jaskier wrapped his arm around Geralt’s neck and smiled at him. “True Love’s Kiss?” 

Geralt wondered how fast Yennefer could make him a portal back to Brugge. “If we never talk about this, it won’t be weird?"

Jaskier laughed and pulled Geralt in for another kiss. “Since we’re never talking about this again, you should fuck me right now, here in the middle of the solar.”

A terrible plan. “Yen, can you take care of the sycophants?” Geralt asked.

“Of course,” Yennefer said and Geralt went back to kissing Jaskier. His one true - you know, it was time to be getting his trousers open.

The bards were still talking. 

“Is the witcher’s prick 12 inches? I need to know for the sonnet I’m writing.” 

“Just use a metaphor.” 

“... so is his prick longer than a 12-inch, erm, stick?” 

Geralt sighed. He opened Jaskier's dressing gown and pulled down his pants. He stroked Jaskier for a bit, and then added his own cock and stroked both. Jaskier pulled Geralt down for a kiss and with the extra pressure, they were both close, so close, a bit faster, a twist of the wrist, and gods, _yes_.

A whiny voice interrupted Geralt's thoughts. "Wait, what happened? I had to get a pen, and they were finished faster than expected."

Fucking bards. Geralt looked around for Yennefer. “I thought you said you were going to get rid of the bards.”   
  
“No, you asked me to _take care of it,_ " she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I changed everyone’s memories to believe that Valdo Marx is Jaskier’s one true love and gave him a hand job in the middle of the room."

“You did _what_?” Jaskier sounded horrified. “That man is a no-talent hack!”

“I’ll just revert their memories, then? I’m sure Jaskier will be perfectly safe once the world knows that he is Geralt of Rivia’s one true love.” 

Geralt growled. 

“I think you mean, _Thank you, Yennefer_.” Yennefer smiled. "It's always so much _fun_ when we get to hang out together."

  
**+1**

Jaskier had accepted a residency at the winter castle of the Duchess of Leurbost, and Geralt had accepted a bodyguard position, self-appointed. 

They’d been greeted in the main hall and were walking to their rooms when two Sisters of Order of the Flowering Talloom stopped them. 

“You must be Jaskier the bard and Geralt the witcher,” the taller one said. 

“At your service,” Jaskier said, bowing slightly. 

“We are blessed to be in your presence,” said the shorter.

“And us, you,” Jaskier said easily.

“We heard the tales of your _gift_ opening the Gate of Glwyd, and we would be honoured if you would be a part of our most holy Spring Festival of Love.” 

Jaskier tilted his head. “Would you like to commission a song?”

The taller sister leaned her head in close. “Not a song. The same act that you performed to get the gate open.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said. “Well, there is nothing I would love more than to fuck Geralt in front of a large crowd, but -”

“I am very sorry,” Geralt cut in, trying very hard to actually look sorry, “but it turns out Valdo Marx is Jaskier’s one true love, so we cannot, erm, copulate at your Love Festival.” 

“Valdo Marx, the troubadour of Cidaris?” the tall one asked.

“Yes,” Jaskier said flatly. “He is apparently my one true love.” 

“Oh, I heard he has a cock like a bull,” the short one said.

“And the stamina of a goldfish,” the other one laughed. They bowed their goodbyes and continued down the hall.

Jaskier shrugged at Geralt. “You win some and lose some?” 

They found their room, a light and airy - oh, gods yes, there was a door that could be closed. Geralt slammed it shut. And then pulled the wardrobe in front of it. And then put a couple of chairs in front of it for good measure.

Jaskier was inspecting his lute. “Yes, Geralt?” he said dryly. “Is there something for which you have a pressing need for privacy?” He raised an eyebrow.

“It’s just us.” 

“Finally the chance I’ve been waiting for - to have you hear the entirety of my epic poem about the rise of the Nilfgaardian Empire. Three hours of dry history and oblique rhymes.” 

Geralt levelled his gaze at Jaskier. 

“I’m so kidding,” Jaskier said, sitting to yank his boots off. “We are going to fuck like … erm, something that fucks a lot.” 

Geralt was in complete agreement. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [tumblr](https://numinousnumbat.tumblr.com/).


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